Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue
by DPLxStrife
Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon. Rated M for safety
1. Cookies and Orange Juice

_**A/N: I thought it would be funny to do a compilation series of one-shot for all the 'untold' stories of the Blood Gulch crew. It'll cover…a vast majority of bullshit lol. Rated M just to be safe thanks to future chapters.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Cookies and Orange Juice***

Church growled as he forced the fridge open, covering his nostrils as a horrible stench wafted out. "Ugh! What the fuck happened in here!? Did someone eat and then throw up a pile of trash!? Or is a skunk juggling dead hamsters in here!?" _'Fucking really!? I can't even get myself a nice cold beer and bag of potato chips in this place! I knew I should've just gone to fucking bed; why the hell do I even bother?'_

Tucker walked in, and the aqua soldier stumbled backwards, pinching his nose. "Jesus fucking Christ! What the hell is that smell!? Did something crawl up your ass and die or something? I mean, I know you're having digestive issues, but come on man."

Church glared at his teammate, almost wanting to bash his head in and lock him in the smelly fridge for eternity. Or at least until he suffocated. "Up yours, dickhead. All I want is a beer, but it seems as though God has to be a colossal piece of shit." He reached into the fridge with his eyes shut tight, and he used his slowly disintegrating sense of smell to find the culprit behind the horrid stench. "Ugh…whatever this shit is, it's fucking slimy. Reminds me of that disgusting porn that Tex made us watch for writing, 'I love Justin Bieber' on her TV in pink lipstick." _'Don't think about it…must not remember…'_

The Blue Team leader slowly opened his eyes, and he was tempted to throw the culprit at the bitch he called his ex-girlfriend. "Tex, you fucking bitch. You don't even eat this shit!" _'You have got to be fucking kidding me. She doesn't even like the fucking smell of this when it's fresh!'_

It was very old and rotten calamari, and Tucker gagged before he began to vomit profusely into a conveniently placed garbage can. "O-oh my fucking God…is that rotten squid!?" He wiped his chin, only to duck his head right back down and continue to empty his stomach. "Ugh…this is the most I've thrown up since that slumber party in college!"

"You seriously want me to believe that you banged an entire slumber party while drunk as shit?" Church muttered as he threw the rotten squid into the garbage disposal, making sure to throw half a lemon down it to clean the scent. Tucker caught his breath back, and he wiped his face with a rag that was most likely going to be burned instead of cleaned. "I'd want you to believe it, but in reality, the girls' boyfriends came in and punched me in the stomach more times than I can be bothered to count."

"That's what I thought."

"Oh, whatever man…"

Church sighed as he grabbed a can of air freshener and started to spray it inside the fridge. The lavender scent replaced the horrid stench of rotting seafood, and the Blue leader groaned in annoyance when he saw he wasn't able to get what he came for in the first place. "Great. Just fucking great. I'm out of beer. Which one of you assholes stole it? Because I'm seriously not in the mood to deal with this bullshit." _'I fucking hate my life. I really do. Why do I have the worst luck in the universe?'_

"Probably that bitch you call an ex-girlfriend," Tucker replied with a shrug. "You know me; I prefer strong shit, like vodka or rum." Church groaned, and he was trying his hardest not to scream out a random streak of angry wears like a crazy person when Caboose popped in, holding an empty glass and a tray of chocolate chip cookies. "Oh, hello! I'm just here for some orange juice to go with my cookies!"

Caboose's eating habits were by far the strangest on the Blue Team. For some reason, the only things he ever seemed to consume were cookies and orange juice, which they always had an overabundance of. Tucker rolled his eyes, also trying not to yell out in anger, and Caboose cheerfully hummed as he picked up his giant container of orange juice. "Mmm cookies..."

He finished pouring it into his glass, and he looked at his leader/ person who also hated him the most for shooting him with a tank. Church was surprised at how quiet he was being, and he tried to not let out a streak of angry swears. "Caboose…where the hell do you keep finding these things? I thought you were banned from using the radio to order shit!" _'Goddammit. I just know that he ordered something fucking stupid. Why does nothing exciting happen?'_

"Don't worry; you won't see anything that I ordered," Caboose replied happily. "For at least six to eight weeks." Church let out a frustrated growl, and Tucker sighed as he rubbed his forehead in annoyance. "Dammit Caboose, what the fuck did you order this time!?"

"You look like you need some beef jerky. It'll be ready in six to eight weeks."

"You ordered a fucking food dehydrator, didn't you?"

"Oh, you won't be complaining when we're storing twice as much ammo as we are now!"

"For the millionth time Caboose, you can't dehydrate bullets…" Tucker groaned in frustration. Church let out a frustrated scream, and he slammed his head into the wall of the base, finally unable to deal with the tremendous amount of bullshit that came with being the leader of the worst team in Blood Gulch. "I can't fucking take it anymore! Caboose, if you can give me one good reason to not shoot you where you stand, I'd really fucking appreciate it!" _'I'm done. The next person to piss me off is getting a bullet in the head.'_

Caboose was silent for a few seconds, and he held out his container of orange juice and a package of sugar cookies. "I have cookies. The good kind. I think you need some to relax. Maybe you can stand in the shade and eat them with your orange juice."

"…fuck it. Give me the goddamn cookies." Church grabbed them from the retarded Blue's hands, and he stormed outside before beginning to eat them. He grudgingly had to admit that they were rather good, and the orange juice didn't have pulp in it either.

"Fuck me…I bet the Reds don't have to deal with this shit."

 _ **A/N: Next up, a horrible birthday to remember! If anyone has any fucked up and funny suggestions, then feel free to share; I need something funny for RvB to write since the Project Freelancer Plays Cards Against Humanity story is done XD.**_


	2. Shitty Birthdays And Short Shorts

_**A/N: Ah, good old Blood Gulch…now, I should probably explain the rules of this fanfic: this is for the original Blood Gulch characters ONLY. Any character seen after Season 5 is not going to be involved (i.e. Wash, Carolina, Felix), but we will see maybe one or two chapters involving a certain British asshole and…well, let's just say it's going to be British as fuck (it's something I've done).**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Shitty Birthdays and Short Shorts***

Grif sighed as he walked into the shitty excuse of a kitchen of Red Base, opening the fridge to take out his package of glazed doughnuts. "Man…nothing exciting ever happens around here. It's just a repeat of the same shit." _'At least we don't have to actually do anything, despite what Sarge says. The Blues are probably the shittiest team ever, and we don't have to worry about them attacking us.'_ He started eating, and no sooner was the third doughnut consumed than Simmons walked in, giving him a dirty look. "Hey, fatass. Sarge wants us to report outside to him right now. And you ARE coming."

' _Ah shit. It figures that Sarge wants me to do something,'_ Grif thought. "Whatever man…" He finished the package of doughnuts, and he reached into his orange armor's compartment to pull out his cigarettes, sticking one in his mouth. "I'm sure it's nothing other than a boring staff meeting, as usual. Fucking kiss ass. No wonder everyone thinks you're nothing but a stupid asskisser who can't even win a fight with a teenage girl with Parkinson's." _'I can't believe I was fucking drafted to this unit. I have to deal with a gay idiot, a massive kiss-ass, a paranoid old man bordering on senility, and a Spanish robot who still hasn't managed to learn a word of English. Fuck me.'_

"Just come outside, you fucking jackass," Simmons grumbled. Grif groaned in annoyance as he slammed his helmet on, for he really didn't want to stand outside in the middle of a hot desert and listen to his senile leader try and plan some ridiculous (and horribly flawed) attack on the Blues. His armor did have cooling fans, but the chubby orange solider sweated so much that they short-circuited during basic training, and smoking inside his helmet didn't make matters any better.

Once outside, he put a hand over his eyes, groaning as the bright sun attempted once again to blind him for all eternity. "Ugh…this better be something important." _'Not that it ever is. Nothing Sarge ever says is even remotely important. Though that may just because I don't like him or respect him in any way whatsoever.'_

Sarge was waiting outside, along with Donut and Lopez, and for once he wasn't aiming that deadly Shotgun at the orange soldier. "Glad you decided to get your ass outside, lazy bastard." Grif rolled his eyes, sighing as the familiar greeting echoed hollowly in his head. "Oh, fuck you…"

"What was that, Private?"

"Ugh, fuck you, _sir_."

"That's better. Now quit your bellyaching, you big orange baby. I have an important announcement to make," Sarge barked. "Tomorrow is my birthday."

"So, you're like what, 87?"

"Grif…"

"You've been retired for about what, half a century?"

"How about I give you a taste of buckshot and make you have an early retirement because you're dead?" Sarge snarled, pumping his Shotgun. Grif took that as a sign to shut the fuck up, for he knew damn well that his trigger-happy sergeant was more than serious about the death threat, and that Simmons would be assisting in the matter. He just blew out a cloud of smoke from inside his helmet, making Simmons grumble something about his lungs being ruined.

"As I was saying, tomorrow is my birthday," Sarge growled. "I expect nothing but absolute perfect! And that includes my twenty-one beer salute and the ten foot tall cake. Oh, and make sure I have a strawberry Yoo-Hoo to wash it down; hehe, I need my annual sweet tooth to meet its quota!"

"Anything else worth noting?"

"No, Simmons. Now get to work on that cake!"

-0-

 _The next day_

Grif's jaw dropped, and the cigarette he was smoking fell out of his mouth and landed on the floor. "Holy shit. When you told me you were getting the biggest fucking cake you could legally get your hands on, you sure as fuck weren't kidding!" Simmons was in charge of finding the cake for Sarge's birthday, and the cyborg kiss-ass had managed to find a cake so big, he doubted that the four crappy members of Red Team could eat it.

It was three layers, and the top was only a foot below the ceiling. The frosting was white, and the words 'Happy Birthday Sarge' were lazily drawn in red on the front. Simmons stood proudly next to it, positively beaming and playing with himself. "Yep. I had to call in a few favors, but I got it. And I must say, I'm quite happy I managed to fulfill my duty to the letter on this glorious day."

Grif pretended to retch, and he picked up his confetti gun when Sarge came strutting in, his grey mustache neatly groomed and devoid of any tangles. "Happy Birthday, Sarge." He fired the confetti, and his trigger-happy Sergeant brushed it off of his shoulders, making his way over to the enormous cake with a strawberry Yoo-Hoo in hand. He gazed upwards as if in awe, and he whistled. "My God men, that cake could fit a person!"

Grif started to join his Sergeant when a strangely familiar and unusual scent washed over him. "Wait, why does the cake smell like baby oil?" _'That shouldn't be right. Unless…oh fuck me.'_ "Oh shit, where's Donut!?"

Simmons, Grif, and Sarge were unprepared for the horrifying spectacle that rose in front of them. With their mouths agape in terror, they watched as the top of the cake burst off, and who should rise out but Donut. "Hi guys! I hope you enjoy the dance routine I prepared for today!"

He started doing a dance that would've made professional male strippers jealous, but that wasn't the worst part in Grif's eyes. Oh no. It was the outfit the cheerful soldier had chosen to adorn. It was a skimpy cop outfit with ridiculously tight short shorts that showed off his bulge, and while it would've looked good on a woman with the right body shape, it made the chubby soldier wish he was both blind and deaf for the first time in his existence. "AHHHHHH!"

He ran out, sobbing hysterically with Simmons and Sarge in tow behind him. "Oh, the irony!"

"Dammit! Why did it have to be today!?"

"Why short shorts!?"

 _ **A/N: Next up…fuck, I don't know XD. Since it is nearing that time of year, maybe a Halloween special? Tell me what you think in the review section, and check out my other works and poll question on my bio.**_


	3. Fuckious Nopeus

_**A/N: Hello, people of the internet. It has been far too long since I bothered to update this, I know. I had massive amounts of writer's block for it, and didn't know what to do. But I'm back!**_

 _ **All ficlets will be short. Nothing too long for this series (figure I'll end it at maybe fifteen or so…)**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Fuckious Nopeus***

If there was one thing Grif hated more than physical labor and Donut's shitty dance recitals, it was spiders.

Even more than his irrational fear of bats. How scary can a two-ounce flying AIDs rat be? He was encased head to toe in state-of-the-art body armor designed to absorb explosions and repel most small arms fire.

Actually, when one puts it like that, they are pretty fucking creepy. Okay, maybe having a phobia of bats isn't as irrational as one would think.

Why was Grif afraid of spiders?

Well, he once visited Australia, and when he went to take his daily three-hour shit, waiting for him was a giant fucking spider the size of the toilet bowl it rested on.

He screamed like a little girl and ran out before getting his hands on a flamethrower, burning down the entire building to make sure the giant 'Nope' was dead. For good measure, he even chucked a grenade to really make sure it was gone.

Now, in the middle of some shitty desert canyon in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, he was mostly at ease. He had yet to see a Nope Spider of the genus Fuckious Nopeus of the Fuck No family indigenous to the Fuck That Shit region of Don't Fucking Visit It.

That was, until today. Because life loves being an asshole.

Grif went to step into the shower for the first time in about a week, and he had already slimed out of his armor when he saw it.

Hairy.

Eight eyes.

Giant fangs.

The size of a dinner plate.

Grif's eye twitched. His hair grayed. His cigarette fell from his mouth.

And he screamed like a little bitch. "NOPE! NOPE! FUCK NOPE! FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT!"

-0-

Sarge's eye twitched when he saw the condition of their base. "Grif, can you care to tell me why in Sam hell the goddamn base is on fire!?"

Grif couldn't respond; he just rocked back and forth in the corner with an occasional whimper, eyes the size of saucers.

"He saw a spider, sir."

"But why is the base on fire!?"

Simmons sighed. "I'll go get my sprinklers…"

Who the fuck let Grif near the flamethrower in the first place?

It was just a Nope.

 _ **A/N: Hope you enjoyed**_

 _ **Discord: DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE #5371**_


	4. Tea and Biscuits

_**A/N: Chapter 4. These little one-shots are absolutely fun to do, and I hope I can wrap up this fic this year at my current pace :D**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Tea and Biscuits***

If there was one thing Wyoming loved more than telling shitty knock-knock jokes and grooming his magnificent mustache, it was having his daily tea and biscuits.

Well, he called them biscuits. Others might call them cookies.

Either way, they were amazing when one dipped them in tea.

And they were even better when he didn't have to worry about shooting imbeciles in a box canyon for some extra cash or Texas trying to kill him.

Currently, the Freelancer turned bounty hunter was now resting in a comfortable armchair, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a plate of biscuits in his lap. His feet were propped up on a crate, and his gaze was firmly fixed on the television in front of him. His favorite show Downtown Abbey was just about to start, and he'd be damned if he didn't complete his ritual.

' _This is the life,'_ he thought, stroking his mustache with his free hand. _'No idiots to kill, no Texas trying to murder me. Just Downtown Abbey, tea and biscuits.'_

However, he frowned when he looked down at his mug. Something was wrong, and he wasn't having it ruin his otherwise perfect day."Gamma?"

" _Yes, Reggie?"_

"Do put the kettle on for me, if you would be so kind. I'm afraid I'm nearly out of tea."

 _ **A/N: XD I can actually see Wyoming doing this. Why did I include him? Because he makes more than one appearance in the original Blood Gulch Chronicles and is pretty important to those seasons.**_

 _ **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed XD.**_

 _ **Discord: DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE #5371**_


	5. Missed, Bitch!

_**A/N: Chapter 5, and a third of the way done. This chapter is something regarding our favorite Blue Team leader XD**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Missed, Bitch!***

Church growled angrily as he continued to miss with the target. "What the fuck!? This is bullshit!"

He was atop the Blue Base in the shitty excuse of a canyon, trying his hardest to improve his awful aim with his rifle.

Only problem?

He couldn't hit a target to save his life.

Everyone else would say it was a user error and his aim was just awful.

Church however insisted that the reason for his awful aim was because someone kept purposely fucking with the sights on his rifle.

So, to prove that it wasn't his fault, decided to go atop the base and practice his shooting with both Sniper Rifles.

Tucker joined him atop the base, the black soldier rubbing his eyes wearily. "Dude, are you _still_ up here? It's fucking almost eight at night; you've been failing to hit that target for six hours."

"Fuck you," Church snapped. "My aim is fine."

"Uh huh, sure it is," Tucker said, rolling his eyes. "Oh by the way, I'm gonna go ahead and steal your penne vodka from last night."

"You fucking asshole!" Church growled, trying to shoot Tucker in response.

However, his teammate laughed off his horrible attempts, waving at him as he descended back into the base. "Missed!"

"Fuck you!"

"By the way, I fucked Tex last night too!"

 _CRACK!_

"Missed again, bitch!"

Church really hated him sometimes.

 _ **A/N: XD these are way too much fun. If anyone has a good suggestion, feel free to leave it in the comments below. Now we're a third of the way done with this fic, so make sure you tell me :)**_

 _ **Discord: DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE #5371**_


	6. Fucking Tank!

_**A/N: Hello, and welcome to the sixth installment of this one-shot series. I apologize for the delay, but I had some things I needed to take care of before I could update again.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Fucking Tank!***

Caboose was sad.

Sheila, his beloved nice tank lady friend, wouldn't speak to him!

Instead, she would rather talk to that weird Spanish robot they kidnapped, called Gustavo or something like that.

Caboose didn't know the robot's actual name. He didn't care.

All he cared about was why his darling Sheila was ignoring him!

The blue soldier ran over to his armored beauty, sobbing under his helmet. "Sheila! Why won't you speak to meeeeeeee!?"

Sheila's giant cannon swirled down as if looking at him, and her wonderfully familiar voice spoke to him. _"Caboose…I'm afraid I have something to tell you."_

"Really!? Is it a secret!? Like when you told me about Tucker's rock?" Caboose asked excitedly, no longer sobbing like an idiot.

" _No, Caboose…"_

"Then what?"

" _Caboose,"_ Sheila said, _"I'm leaving, with Lopez. We're going to start our own robot family."_

"What!? How could you do this to me!?" Caboose's brain (or what was left of it) practically fell to bits. Sheila, his beloved, was leaving him for that robot!? What kind of treachery was this!?

" _I'm sorry, Caboose. But it's time to part ways. Firing main cannon."_

"Uh oh."

 _BOOM!_

"Ow...hey, where is that shell bouncing off to…?"

* * *

Church was happily strolling along with a beer in his hand, when the all-too familiar happened. "Huh? What is that whistling? Oh, son of a—"

 _BOOM!_

"Oh, come the fuck on! Blown up by my own fucking tank again!?"

He was _so_ going to get Tex to disarm that tank's fucking cannon.

 _ **A/N: Hehe…sorry, Church. Couldn't resist it XD**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	7. Shitty Throw

_**A/N: Chapter seven. This one is something I am guilty of, and it's the reason why I'm forbidden from ever using grenades in Halo.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Shitty Throw***

Apart from constantly either getting blown up by his own fucking tank or getting beat up by his bitch of an ex-girlfriend, Church had another issue.

Oh, and apart from having the worst fucking aim in all of existence. Seriously, he's only managed to hit what, two fucking targets in the entire series?

And one of those doesn't count because he didn't call it, and the other never happened thanks to Wyoming's voodoo time-manipulation bullshit.

Oh, wait…this isn't meant to be a shitpost. Sorry.

Ahem.

Anyway, Church was strolling along the canyon, like he normally does. As per the usual, there was absolutely nothing for gin to do apart from yell at the two idiots he was forced to call his teammates.

Until he happened to stumble across a strange object that someone had left on the ground.

"The fuck is that?" He bent down to pick it up. It was small. It was also heavy.

And it took him a second to realize it was a fucking grenade.

"Oh, son of a bitch," he groaned.

He cocked his arm back and threw it, hoping it would detonate in midair before it hit someone. Though if he was honest, he wouldn't mind if it just happened to accidentally and totally coincidentally hit either Tucker or Caboose. Shit, maybe he'd get lucky and get rid of two birds with one stone.

Well, technically a grenade…

Except it didn't.

And it exploded on someone.

Someone that when Church saw them, he immediately knew he fucked up. Again.

"Church," Tex growled angrily, her ghost stalking towards him. "You have five seconds to run for your life."

Church took one look at his angry ex-girlfriend, and looked at the Red Base on the other side of the canyon.

One side of the canyon meant he was going to die a brutal death, and the other also meant death, just not as quickly or painlessly.

Church took the smart option and ran towards the Red Base, with Tex in hot pursuit.

No one could forget his screams of terror, and all because of a shitty throw.

 _ **A/N: Sorry Church. But, you are just too much fun to torment XD. See you soon!**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	8. Shitty Driver

_**A/N: Chapter eight. This is just a headcannon I have of Simmons being the worst driver out of anyone on the Reds.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Shitty Driver***

"I'm telling you, dude, I could totally do a backflip in the jeep!" Grif insisted. He had been trying to tell Simmons for more than an hour about his skills as a driver, and still the maroon cyborg was refusing to buy it.

"Bullshit," Simmons snorted. "Last time we attempted to do a drive-by on the Blues, we fucking crashed into a rock! How hard is it for you to notice a giant fucking rock!?"

"Uh, you were the one who kept missing every fucking shot you took, asshole," Grif returned.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you!"

"How about this, fatass? I'll drive the Warthog, and I'll show you who the better driver is, Private Negative First Class Bitch?" Simmons snapped.

"And you'll see I'm right when I say you are the shittiest driver ever, of all time." Grif lit a cigarette in his helmet, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

"Oh please. What's the worst that could happen?" Simmons asked with a roll of his eyes.

* * *

Sarge's eyebrow twitched in annoyance when he saw the state of ruin the Warthog was in yet again, and he let out a frustrated growl. "Grif, what in Sam hell happened to my jeep!?"

Grif blew out a cloud of smoke, pointing at Simmons. "Ask him. He's the moron who drove it off a fucking cliff."

"Goddammit. I don't get paid enough for this shit," Sarge grumbled.

He really didn't. Maybe he ought to make a call to command about getting some extra cash every month or so.

 _ **A/N: And this means we only have seven chapters left. It's been fun lol.**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	9. A Sticky Situation

_**A/N: Here's chapter nine. Sorry for my delay.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***A Sticky Situation***

Tucker groaned in annoyance as Tex dragged him up to the top of the base. "Tex, what the fuck do you want? It's three in the morning. Can't this shit wait?"

"No," she answered calmly. "I need to know something."

"Then why are you asking me?" Tucker asked. "I'm not exactly the smartest one here."

"No," Tex agreed. "But you're not the dumbest, either. That honor belongs to Church."

Tucker snickered, his mood semi-improving. "Yeah, it does. He was a fucking moron for letting you go."

"Flattery won't work, Tucker."

"Who said I was flattering you? You do have a nice ass."

 _THUMP!_

Tucker winced, and he rubbed his shoulder. "Damn. Didn't think you'd fucking punch me over that."

"You're a dumbass." Tex sighed, and she pointed at the teleporter. "Do you know if this thing works?"

"No," he lied. He knew damn well it worked; he just didn't want to let her near the damn thing. "Wait, why are you asking?"

"Because I have a little experiment I want to try out," Tex answered. Her response definitely made a shiver crawl up Tucker's spine, and he shied away from her.

"I'm just going to walk away…" He let out a nervous chuckle.

"Get back here." Tex grabbed him by the arm and threw him through the teleporter.

Tucker's world spun around, and he let out a groan of pain as he fell on the ground. "Son of a bitch!"

He got to his feet, and he heard Tex yell in the distance. "Hey, are you alive!?"

"Yeah! No thanks to you!" Tucker yelled back.

He looked down at his armor, and he groaned in annoyance. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Once again, that sticky black shit was all over his armor.

"Ha!" Tex laughed. "Don't worry, I'll help you. Got yourself in a sticky situation, huh?"

"Bow chicka bow wow." Tucker grinned.

"…I'll let you have that one."

 _ **A/N: Six more left. Hmm…what to do next…**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	10. Because I Like It, Bitch

_**A/N: Chapter ten, and only a handful left. This one is basically me in arguments.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Because I Like It, Bitch***

As per their usual routine, Church and Tucker were arguing on top of Blue Base. Even though the two were teammates, both of them constantly butted heads from the time Tucker was sent to Blood Gulch and were serving under Captain Flowers. Usually, it was over something stupid, like whether or not Tex actually liked either of them or if Caboose was onto something about orange juice having medicinal properties.

This time, it was over which was better, the Sniper Rifle or Tucker's alien sword he found after falling in a hole.

"Come on, man, that thing sucks!" Church insisted. "You have to get up close to use it! I could kill you from half a mile away with my rifle before you even got close to me."

"You, hit something with that rifle? Please," Tucker scoffed. "You can't even hit a rock standing perfectly still for you. And my sword is better. It makes cooler noises and makes me look even more like a badass sexy space warrior."

"Neither of yours are any good. Shut the hell up already," Tex growled from downstairs. "I'm sick and tired of listening to you two constantly fight like a married couple."

"What, are you jealous or something? You dumped me." Church turned to glare at his ex. "And now, thanks to you, I'm stuck with this perverted asshole and a moron who won't leave me alone."

"Not to mention you constantly die every other week from lame reasons." Tucker snickered. Angry Church was always funny to watch.

"Shut up, you fucking jackass."

"Fuck you."

"Both of you, shut the hell up!" Tex threw a grenade at them, and both Blue Team members jumped off the base to avoid being blown to smithereens.

"Christ man, I think she's on her period or something today," Tucker muttered as he landed on the ground. "She's bitchier than normal."

"Try living with it for as long as I did," Church returned unsympathetically.

"…I think I'll just stick to one night stands. A lasting relationship doesn't really suit me." The aqua soldier shrugged. "Oh, and I can think of one reason why my sword is better than your rifle."

"What is it?" Church sighed.

"Because I _like_ it, bitch."

 _CRACK!_

"Missed." Tucker grinned. "Again."

 _ **A/N: And that's a wrap. See you soon for chapter 11.**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	11. Bigger Is Better

_**A/N: Eleventh chapter of this. This is an idea that came to me while I was playing DmC, and I thought it was too funny to pass up.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Bigger Is Better***

During the very temporary truce the Reds and Blues had with each other, Simmons and Tucker developed a rivalry that bordered on 'brotherly'.

The two both wanted to get with Grif's hot sister, especially since both of them got to saw her naked when she got examined by Doc two weeks ago.

"Dude, you don't have a chance," Tucker said with a scoff. "Out of the two of us, I'm stronger."

"Oh yeah? Well I'm smarter!" Simmons countered.

"I'm better looking." Tucker smirked. He knew he had the better chances with Sister than anyone, especially since out of all the competition, he had the superior looks. "And by the way, nerd, chicks don't give a shit about being smart. They like strong dudes."

"That's…that's a lie!" Simmons said. "My mom said girls like men who can solve shit with their brains."

"Hah, keep telling yourself that, nerd." Tucker grinned. He went to walk away, but his pettiness let him get one last insult in.

"And I have a bigger dick."

 _ **A/N: Too much fun XD. I can see this happening in RvB canon too. See you!**_

 _ **Discord: DPL #5371**_


	12. Kill Me Now

_**A/N: Chapter 12. This idea came to me listening to Metallica's 'One', and how poor Lopez would feel if he got blown up.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Kill Me Now***

Lopez hated everything about his existence, from his inability to be understood due to being programmed in Spanish to his creators.

He hated even more now that he had just been blown up by a landmine the Blues misplaced on the dusty ground trying to alert the Reds of O'Malley's incoming attack.

His body had been blown to bits. He was missing his arms, legs, and was now blind due to the shrapnel ruining his sight function.

And yet, he had somehow lived.

Not that he wanted to.

He was nothing more than a head on a useless torso at this point.

He wanted it to end.

"Come on, Lopez. You can make it." That sniffling had to be Simmons. Lopez hoped Sarge would hit him in the head to shut him up.

Lopez tapped in Morse Code on the mechanic table, his only way of communicating. He knew they could at least understand _that_.

"Hey, isn't that Morse Code?" Grif asked. "What's he saying?"

"He's…" Sarge broke off, and he sighed.

"He's saying, 'Kill me. Kill me now'."

Lopez had never been so happy when Sarge pulled the trigger.

 _ **A/N: This ended up pretty dark for a humor fic. To be honest, I still think I'm in a dark place after writing the most recent chapter for my story 'Of Crossed Swords'.**_


	13. Failed!

_**A/N: So, for this chapter, I thought it would be funny if Tucker attempted to succeed at 'No Nut November'. That's it. That was the inspiration XD**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Failed!***

Tucker was a man who liked to be…generous with affections when it came to the opposite sex. He loved women, almost as much as women hated him.

Mr. Aqua Bachelor of Blue Team was his nickname.

"Actually, it's Lord Bachelor McLonely Bitch," Tex interjected, looking over at the author as he typed on his laptop with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying on the ground next to him.

He looked up with an irritated sigh. "Tex! Stop breaking the fourth wall! Go back to having sex with Reach!"

"Wrong fic."

"Fuck you."

Anyway…

Tucker was trying very hard to succeed at something he read on the internet called, 'No Nut November'. It was when the participating party wasn't allowed to have an orgasm for an entire month.

Sounds pretty bad, right?

Well, Church and Tex thought it would be funny to bet Tucker twenty bucks that he couldn't do it. Seeing as Tucker refused to back down from a bet, he graciously accepted.

With disastrous (and really predictable) results.

Not even thirty minutes in, he spotted Sister naked doing yoga exercises.

And he came. All over the wall.

Not only did he lose twenty bucks, but he also had to spend the night cleaning up his own bodily fluids.

Not a pleasant way to spend an evening, especially when everyone else was getting shitfaced drunk with the author at a bar until morning.

 _ **A/N: I admit it. I'm fucking drunk. I honestly don't know what I'm doing, but fuck it.**_

 _ **See you soon!**_

 _ **Discord: C. Strife #5371**_


	14. Not My Sister!

_**A/N: Well, here's the second to last chapter. It's been fun, and I'm gonna be glad to finally fucking complete it after more than a year.**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Not My Sister!***

Sarge hated Grif. A lot.

Even more than he hated those backstabbing no-good dirty rotten Blues on the other side of the canyon. Oh, how their very existence was a blight in the Almighty Red Lord's righteous eyes.

Apart from Grif's sister. For a Blue, she was okay.

"Grif!" he yelled, trying to get his least favorite person in the universe's attention. "Where the devil are you!? I need to talk to you!"

A few seconds later, Grif came out from the base. His helmet was off, and a cigarette was hanging from his lips. "What now, Sarge? For the last time, Simmons broke the jeep, not me, and Donut is the one who keeps changing your shampoo to cherry blossom-scented."

"No, it's not that." Sarge shook his head, and he chuckled.

It was funny to fuck with him, even though he hated the shit out of Grif.

"I just thought you ought to know something, Grif."

"What?" Grif sighed. "Lemme guess, you hate me and want me to die screaming in a fire?"

"No." Sarge smirked. "This is different. Your sister…is a nice girl. For a Blue. I wonder what you would do if something happened to her?"

Grif's eye twitched, and he scowled. "Sarge, I don't give a shit if you want me dead. But you better not touch my little sister."

"Oh, I did." Sarge's grin grew. "A solid eight inches of me touched her, specifically."

Now, truth be told, Sarge actually hadn't fucked his sister. Simmons and Tucker already did that at the same time during negotiations a few weeks ago. Part of the deal, so to say.

But Grif didn't know that.

Grif's eyes widened in horror, and he let out a girly scream. "NO! Not my sister! I can handle you fucking with me, but her!? Why!? WHY!?"

"Because," Sarge replied with a victorious smirk. "It's funny messing with you. Gives me something to look forward to."

 _ **A/N: Next up, the finale. I figure something warm and heartwarming ought to do. See you!**_

 _ **Discord: C. Strife #5371**_


	15. Finale

_**A/N: Well, here's the final update. Enjoy!**_

 **Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue**

 _Summary: A series of one-shots regarding some of the untold stories from our favorite gang in a canyon._

 ***Finale***

Church stood on top of Blue Base, Tex next to him. Together, they watched as Tucker and Caboose sat with the Reds playing poker below after they kicked Wyoming's annoying ass.

It was nice to see this for a change instead of them constantly yelling insults at each other from across the canyon. Pity it wouldn't last for more than a few days at best, but it was still a nice change of pace.

Church would've joined in on the festivities, but he had something weighing on his mind. Something he knew he should've said a long, long, time ago.

"So, why did you drag me up here?" Tex asked curiously. For once, there was no malice in her tone. Just curiosity.

Church let out a sigh, removing his helmet to scratch his black hair. "I should've said this a long time ago, Tex. But hey, better late than never. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she asked.

"Sorry for being an asshole, I guess. Sorry for constantly dragging you into my shit. Sorry for not being a better boyfriend," Church replied. He shrugged, looking out as the sun set in the distance. "I should've stopped being a petty dick about everything ages ago."

"Well…thanks. Apology accepted." Tex gave him a friendly thump in the back. "Do you have any other regrets?"

"Well, I do have one," Church admitted. "I wish I learned how to use the fucking Sniper Rifle."

Tex snorted in laughter, shaking her head. "Hey, you had a lot of free time on your hands the past five years. I'm sure you could've practiced a few times."

"Ah well." Church shrugged. "I guess I had other shit to worry about at the time."

He put an arm around her shoulder, gesturing to the poker game down below. "So, are you interested in getting in the game?"

"If we're a team." Tex smirked.

"I was kinda hoping you'd say that."

He felt lighter, now that he finally got that burden off his chest. His mind could rest easy, but for now, it was time to kick some ass in poker.

 _ **A/N: And that's our finale. It has been a lot of fun doing this whenever I'm bored/drunk, but it's time to let it go.**_

 _ **Will I be writing for RvB in the future? A few one-shots here and there. I'll never stop enjoying possibly the first thing I ever saw on YouTube.**_

 _ **For now though, it's time to say farewell to this story.**_

 _ **-DPLxBeAsTxSnIpE**_


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